Unbuckled

I was in a hurry to get somewhere yesterday. Pick up the kids, get dinner, go to the post office, work (stops and laughs at the thought of rushing to work, regains composure), whatever. I had to be wherever I had to be fast.

So I flew out of the house, got in my Lexus ES (the E stands for extra, the S stands for soul-less) 350, pressed the button, hit the self-accelerator and took off down the block.

What I didn't do was buckle my seat belt. And it took me awhile to realize it.

There are only three ways into my neighborhood. It's not gated, but you have to know the way in and out. As I was barreling up the block, and then around the corner, I felt an extremely pleasant sensation.

I was unconstricted, free, able to effortlessly lean over and reach down to pick up the loose change in the passenger footwell. And that's when it hit me: no seat belt.

Now, I have tried very hard to never be one of those a.) people b.) bloggers c.) parents who say when I was younger.

When I was younger, we didn't wear seat belts. We flew around the corners and around the car, and if we were sitting on bench seats we slid and sqooshed the people next to us.

It was, how you say, fun.

Yeah yeah, much safer. Blah, blah, lives saved.

For at least a couple blocks before I got to the perimeter of my neighborhood, and had to turn onto a busy main thoroughfare, I got to recapture that freedom.

In case my kids are reading this, you are never allowed to ride in a car without your seat belt for any amount of time. When we were younger we didn't know the dangers as well as we do today. I apologize if I've mislead you by making it sound fun. It's not.

(Yes it is.)

Cutting corners

When I was growing up, making the bed was an art form. Despite the fact it was a daily chore, when done right it was also a daily accomplishment.

Whether it was called hospital corners or army style, it was what my parents expected every day before I left the house.

Judging by the way my kids leave their beds, it's apparently a lost art form.

Here's the thing - no one has it easier when it comes to making their bed than my kids do. It breaks down like this: the fitted sheet, the top sheet, and either a heavy comforter with a cover for winter or a lightweight one for summer. That's it.

No tucking in sheets, no blankets to corner. Just a sheet to pull up, a comforter to straighten out, and pillows to be placed. Everything in life should be so easy.

Just to see where it clocks in at, I've made both their beds. It can be done in 90 seconds - for both of them.

You see where I'm going here. Despite the fact we've spoiled our kids by making it easier than we ever had it, and easier than it has any right to be, for some reason they still can't get their beds made before they head off to school in the mornings.

It is endlessly frustrating to me. That is until I start thinking about all the other things my kids aren't doing. Like drugs. Neglecting their grades. Being disrespectful to friends and family. Staying up past their bedtimes. Smoking cigarettes. Going on websites they shouldn't be on.

It's all relative (see what I did there?). And they're great kids. So if they're too busy getting good grades and handling more on their plates than I ever had to at their age to make their beds, I'll make a point of finding a way to overlook it.

Maybe I'll even shoot for father of the year and do it for them.

Besides, I could use a little accomplishment right about now.

My other job

Working freelance, I expect sometimes I'm going to be asked to juggle a few jobs at the same time. It's one of the freelance rules: when it rains it pours.

When they're writing jobs, it's never much of a problem. But when you throw in the position of Mr. Mom, it tends to complicate things.

I guess I was asking for it. Freelancers, how many times has this happened to you? When you tell people you're freelancing, what they hear is that you're home all day doing nothing except surfing the net, eating Oreos and watching Dr. Phil.

He can be so abrasive sometimes.

Anyway, the reasoning is since that's all you could possibly be doing, then you're free to pick up the kids, do the laundry, feed the kids, fold the laundry, do the vacuuming, take the kids to music lessons, put away the laundry, take the kids to their soccer/volleyball/tennis games or lessons, then do some shopping on the way to picking up the kids from their games.

And pay the bills. Which you can't, because you haven't been able to get any writing done. Writing which, by the way, is what brings the checks in. Which you need to pay the bills.

The circle of life in action.

On the other hand, doing those chores and errands does give me a sense of accomplishment in a way that writing doesn't. Writing just goes on and on, revision after revision, approval after approval. But the other work has a beginning a middle and an end. Just like good writing.

Maybe the jobs aren't as different as I thought.

Besides, how much Dr. Phil can I take in a day.